


halloVeen

by tysunkete (aozu)



Series: log(minus 1) anthology [4]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Drunken Kissing, Halloween, M/M, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 04:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12903768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/tysunkete
Summary: Original request:Uh I know it's not Halloween but can I request a Kanda/Lavi sexy cop AU because just hot damn.





	halloVeen

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written 01/02/2015.

 

It’s 4 a.m. in the damn morning and Kanda has to breathe in deeply to control his temper before he exits his car. It’s been a _long_ night—morning—whatever, thanks to the bloody stupid holiday that invites people to dress up as weird shit and do more weird shit. It is—was Halloween, so the row of houses he’s at are all decorated with orange lights and glowing skeletons and fake cobwebs, god, Kanda can already imagine the amount of complaints they’d get in the morning with all the trash (decorations) on the streets, especially by fucking kids who think it’s a great occasion to paint a giant dick on the pavement with party sprays.

The only reason why he’s alone on night shift is because no one wants to take the night shift on Halloween even if they’re paid extra for the night, mostly because his colleagues have those lame parties. Those same lame parties he’s been getting complaints for all night long for the noise, and this is like the ninth house that he’s going to “ask politely” to keep fucking noise down.

It’s 4 a.m., fuck, Kanda normally is alright with dealing with night shifts because his concentration doesn’t break that easy, but today’s been extra aggravating with the stupid holiday that he doesn’t understand why the hell is anyone even _celebrating_ Halloween, it’s not like it’s an _actual_ event. At least he’s off the next day, he really needs to work out this bloody stress. Taking another deep breath, he touches his back near his hip where he clips his baton—he doesn’t carry a gun, country laws, but it’s more than enough for dealing with stupid people, which is basically what he deals with on a daily basis—and steps out of the car.

The house that he’s been called to warn is diagonally cross the street, with some weird tinsel glitter wrapped around the front of the door and some kind of white mascot on the front lawn with fake cobwebs pulled around it. As he gets closer he realises the white thing is a huge _Michelin Man_ toy, but before more feelings of incredulity seep in, he’s close enough that his eardrums can bleed from the sheer _noise_ that coming from behind the front door.

It’s not even music—it’s just metal clashing and screaming, and then obnoxious laughing and more shrieking.

Kanda knocks the front door sharply, but the shouting continues, so he bangs his fists against it hard. It takes a while but suddenly the inside is quiet and there is a hiss of, “I told you guys to keep it down!” in a voice that sounds kind of familiar. Some murmurings happen and Kanda clicks his tongue impatiently.

“Open up, this is the police,” he demands, banging on the door again.

He know he’s not supposed to bang on the door but if the stupid kids inside think they can sneak out of the house to escape trouble they’ve got another thing coming. Silence, and then suddenly there’s a panicked, “Lavi, don’t—someone grab him—“ before the door opens abruptly, just as Kanda’s about to bang the door another time.

A redhead who looks about his age is suddenly right into his face, and Kanda reflexively steps back to keep his personal space, but he curses under his breath for getting caught off guard.

He eyes the redhead’s eye patch plastered on the other’s face. “Are you the owner of this house?” he grounds out, irritated.

“Hmmm? Ah...owner…nah, panda pays the bills and shit,” the other breathes out with a slight slur, and Kanda immediately realises that the other person is _drunk_.

“I got a call from one of your neighbours—“ Kanda begins in standard procedure, but the redhead’s attention seems to be roaming everywhere over him except to listen.

“Are you the stripper?” the other leans further forward, this time with an interested glint. “Fuck, you’re hotter than—mmphhhhh—“

“I am so sorry, office…r,” Another boy cuts in and muffles the redhead’s mouth with force, bowing low, but the last syllable stills when he realises _who_ it is at the door. “Kanda?”

Kanda squints. “Who the fuck are you?”

“It’s _Allen_ , you jerkface,” the boy—Allen—hisses, sending a narrowed glare.

In Kanda’s defense, the other doesn’t have that weird scar or white hair that he’s used to seeing thanks to _whatever_ the beansprout is wearing (he can’t be arsed to tell), but he supposes he should’ve known when he heard the familiar voice across the door earlier on.

“Beansprout,” he presses his lips together. “Whatever. What the hell’s going on? I heard fucking screaming from across the street.”

“Uh…just a party,” Allen grins, almost sheepishly, but the redhead he’s muting with his hand now clings to him and tries to fight with the hold.

“Don’t you stupid kids have a bedtime curfew?” Kanda raises an eyebrow. “And you’re underage, why the fuck is that idiot drunk?”

“I’m 22, you prick,” Allen answers calmly. “I’ll admit the noise was our fault, we’ll keep it down.”

“Get everyone out of the damn house,” Kanda rolls his eyes. “It’s fucking late.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Now.”

“But—“

“ _Now_ , beansprout,” Kanda demands flatly. “I don’t have the patience to deal with this shit again.”

“You don’t have the patience to deal with anything,” Allen mutters, but he does turn over his shoulder. “Guys, sorry, party’s over. Go home.”

There’s a chorus of disappointment but Kanda doesn’t budge and people start strolling out the door. There are less people than he expects, maybe about eight or so as they leave in a group, before leaving Allen and the redhead back in the house.

“This _is_ his house,” Kanda cocks his head to the redhead who looks intent to molest Allen with his wandering hands.

“Yeah—Lavi, _Lavi_ ,” Allen hisses, smacking the hands away. “Stop that.”

Some muffled protest comes from the behind the hand over the other’s mouth, before Allen abruptly takes his hand back and wipes his palm on the redhead’s shoulder.

“I told you not to bite me,” Allen sighs.

“Why did everyone go?” the redhead—Lavi—pouts, clinging on to Allen’s shoulder with his weight rested on the other. “I still haven’t got my kiss, unless Al, you wanna—“

“No,” Allen presses his palm flat on the other’s face. “Why are you always like this when you’re drunk?” he mutters.

Lavi whines and turns his attention to the policeman watching them with a disgusted expression. “Hey, you wanna kiss me?”

“… _What_.”

Allen starts coughing and Kanda knows the fucking beansprout is _laughing_.

“Is kissing part of stripping? If not Al will pay you more—“

Allen’s coughing upgrades to straight out laughter and Kanda feels his eyebrow twitch. The funniest—or not—thing is that it’s not the first time that he’s been mistaken for some lewd stripper display, but Kanda doesn’t _get_ it—he’s wearing the proper uniform like all his colleagues but he always gets some stupid pervert leering at the stretch of uniform over his chest or over his ass. Kanda’s hand rests on the top of his baton.

“Lavi, stop,” Allen gasps between breaths. “H-he will arrest you if you keep this up.”

“With that uniform, he can arrest me anytime,” Lavi grins widely, and then the redhead suddenly takes a step forward and grabs the front of Kanda’s shirt.

Kanda prides himself on being ready for any situation, but he definitely _did not_ expect the redhead to grab him and press their mouths together. In less than a split second, Kanda’s reflexes kick in and he has the redhead sprawled on the ground with the other’s wrists pinned to the back and the handcuffs in in his other hand.

Lavi groans in pain. “Oh god, can we do this on the bed?”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Kanda hisses, refusing his face to burn red.

“Kanda!” Allen yelps when he sees that Kanda is genuinely intending to arrest the redhead. “Hey, hey, let him go.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kanda snaps. “The idiot _assaulted_ me!”

“It was just a kiss,” Allen tries to calm the angry cop, but it only serves to aggravate the other further. “Even if it is your first kiss, it’s just—“

_“That’s not the fucking point!”_

“Please don’t arrest him,” Allen winces. “Lavi, he…he does _that_. When he’s drunk.”

“So?”

“His uncle will kill him if he’s brought to the station. Kanda, come on. He’s harmless. Look, he’s already asleep.”

Sure enough, the redhead has stopped struggling for some time and is now out cold on the ground.

“…Tch,” Kanda resists the urge to rub his temples. “How the fuck do you know fucking idiots like him?”

“I have a life, unlike you.”

“Fuck you, beansprout.” Kanda stands up and shoves the handcuffs back into his pocket. He gives a light kick to the sleeping body on the floor and grinds his teeth. “Whatever. Get home, bean. Or not. I don’t care.”

Allen rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Kanda,” he says instead, but Kanda has already turned his heel and is stalking back to his car.

Allen glances at Lavi and looks back at the figure retreating fast. “Kanda!” he calls. “When he’s not drunk, Lavi’s a really nice guy, so if you want to—“

But he gets a backward flipped middle finger in return, and he grins.


End file.
